Chapter 17: Chapter 17: A New Outfit

I stared at that empty chair. Unsure of what to do. My brother had sided with the dowager and my options were to await the dirty hands of a vile priest or flee. I had some measure of power and protection here, nothing out there. Fleeing would likely only get me hunted by two armies.

Well, at least I wasn’t wearing a dress.

“I’m the mistress of the bedroom you oafs, let me through! The royal mistress of the bedroom!” Tent door flap rustling, I turned over to look. Sapphire strode in, carrying a bundle. “You seem to be imprisoned in your own tent.”

“A priest is coming to cleanse me of my many sins.”

She walked up to me, placing it on the table in front of me, “I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

“First, let me apologize!” She dropped the bundle on the table, rushed into me, full, tight embrace. “The dowager thought to punish you by making you wash your filthy body, put your own dress on, sleep alone! That horrible woman – are you ok, did you sleep well?”

My turn to break into a long and hearty laugh.

Sapphire stood back with a confused look on her face, “Cayce, what is it?”

“That’s great, that really is. That was punishment? Oh, nothing, I’m just, it’s hilarious, is all.”

“I don’t see what’s so funny, I had to sleep alone last night, too.” Hand on her hip, waiting.

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“Ah. Well, how was your sleep?”

“Awful! How I worried for you, all by yourself!”

“You are kind. Really, I’m ok. What’d you bring?” I very much hoped it was a submachine gun but prepared myself for disappointment.

“See for yourself. Go on, open it.”

I walked over and unrolled the thick blankets, producing a silver tinkling sound. Underneath the wrappings, a tightly woven chainmail, glinting gold in the light and charcoal underneath. “What . . . what metal is this? I’ve never seen such a thing!” It was light, like fabric.

“Of course you’ve seen this before! It’s your brother’s perseidian chain. Your father gifted it to him when he was twelve.”

“Hard to imagine Thomler was ever this small.” The suit looked like it was made for me.

She took my cheeks in her hands, staring into my eyes with deep worry and sadness, “Your twin brother, Rimley. Passed away not two years ago.”

“Oh my god,” I started, thinking and thinking of a passable lie, “These recent events . . . my mind . . .”

“Yes, I know, I know, I heard.” She gave me a quick hug, then rested the armor on a chair. “We miss and love him, mourn him deeply, but now is time for you to dress, Your Royal Highness. Let me help you.” Saph pulled off my gambeson, putting it too gently, in my opinion, on a nearby chair. Used to this now, I stood still, and she dressed me in poor Rimley’s under-armor leather padding. His gambeson was of higher quality. Then the gold and charcoal chain.

“Raise your arms.” I did this thing.

Saph took the belt in her hands, knelt before me, wrapped herself around my waist, pressing into my body. It was warm, oddly intimate. Then she pulled a bit away, buckling up the belt. “There you are. A woman warrior.”

Overcome by something, I gave her a hug. Long. She whispered into my ear, “Don’t get yourself killed.” Then took me by the hand to the latrine area of the tent. Saph pulled up an area of the fabric. “Here you are, my princess.”

I crawled under the heavy cloth and out. Fortunately, the guards were only posted at the door of the tent. What if, I wondered, an assassin decided to think ‘outside the tent’ and simply cut a new door? Using cloth as walls generally isn’t considered useful against armed opponents. Yet it suited my needs quite well at this point.